Richard Maddox, a once-promising football prodigy, dreamed of becoming a star. But just as his dream was within reach, it was abruptly shattered when he banged his head on the goalpost, fracturing his skull. Forced into early retirement, Richard vanished from the public eye.

People thought Richard Maddox was done for. However, no one expected that during his unconscious state, his spirit detached from his body. He drifted through time, witnessing the world of football from the perspective of a ghost. It was strange, unpleasant, yet exciting. No need for tickets or travel—he could simply fly.

England, Italy, Spain, Germany—the best football countries in Europe—and even the passionate South America, the energetic Africa, and the growing Asia—Richard observed the rise and fall of football giants, all from the sidelines.

However, watching football from the other side was quite different from experiencing it live. He missed the cheering, singing, and chanting with the other fans. No one could hear him now. No one could watch football with him. He was... alone. 

Just as Richard was about to be bored to death, his soul was sucked back, and he realized that only an entire year had passed.

'Interesting,' he thought, laughing. “I could bet, invest in companies that will succeed in the future, and get rich. Bitcoin, I'm coming, baby.”

but who could have guessed that Richard would dive so deep into the world of football—From owning a single share to testing the waters as a scout, trying his hand as an agent, and eventually stepping into the world of coaching, before finally diving into the realm of football club ownership. 

It has truly been a full spectrum of football, the highs and the lows. Join us as we welcome Richard Maddox!

The late May sun hung warm over Barcelona, casting a golden glow over the concrete ribs of Camp Nou. The streets around Les Corts buzzed hours before kickoff. Vendors shouted. Scarves fluttered. The air smelled of roasted almonds, tobacco smoke, and anticipation.


Richard read the financial pages over coffee in a quiet hotel near Avinguda Diagonal to make sure nothing had been overlooked — stadium construction costs, wage structures, and projected expenditures for his club.


By early afternoon, a driver dropped him near Camp Nou. Security was strict but not excessive — only paper tickets and physical stubs in those days. At the VIP entrance, a steward in a blazer checked his embossed ticket and nodded him through.


Chapter 577 - So, Barcelona want Larsson too?